


Fear of Flying

by wrotelucy



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3155822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrotelucy/pseuds/wrotelucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based on the prompt: “They end up sitting next to each other on a like 8 hr plane ride and one of them (RONAN) won’t stop watching top gear (or a show like that w/e) on the tv on the back of the seat and he’s turned it up REALLY LOUD and adam wants to kill him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear of Flying

Adam Parrish hissed through grit teeth. Beneath his feet, the something inside the plane—likely, the motor—gurgled.

**“Oh for fuck’s sake.”**

As if in mocking of Adam’s racing heart, the plane revolted with a rumble of turbulence. Gripping the armrests still tighter, Adam’s pale skin stretching tight over his knuckles. Adam, against his better judgement, looked out the window. The cloud were dark with an impending storm, rain drops already clinging to the pane, pushed quickly away by the wind.The seat jostled against the back of Adam’s head. He responded with another low curse. It was only hour two of their eight hour trip, and at this rate, Adam Parrish wasn’t sure he would make it. 

While Adam’s sacrifice had changed many things—his feelings, needs, desires, abilities; essentially everything—this was not one of them. The Magician was still afraid of flying.

The plane lurched. Adam closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to keep him from screaming.

_Screw Welsh kings and wishes; just get me off this plane._

Next to him, Ronan Lynch let out a hollow laugh. As Adam turned to look at him, Ronan jammed his elbow under Adam’s arm, taking up his rightful share of the armrest. Adam let out a grunt. Ronan let out another laugh. The bit of tattoo poking out of the collar of Ronan’s crewneck quivered with the tremble of his jaw.

It took a full thirty seconds for Adam to realize that Ronan wasn’t even paying attention to—never mind laughing at—him. As if on cue, the sound of  _something_ exploding shot from Ronan’s headphones.

Adam cringed.

The plane shook. Ronan rocked with silent laughter as Adam let out a choked gasp. A smirk tugged at the edges of Ronan Lynch’s lips as Adam tried to unscrew the tension in his own.  From Ronan’s headphones, Adam could hear a distinctly accented voice speaking through the static.

Adam bumped his shoulder against Ronan’s, leaning in to squint at Ronan’s screen, careful to keep his grasp on the armrests. Despite his efforts, Adam couldn’t make out anything more than vague faces and movements.

Ronan flushed with the feeling of Adam’s hair tickling his cheek. Pressing in to the sensation—only slightly,  _not_  pathetically—Ronan used his right hand to tug out his left ear bud. If Adam cared at all about their proximity, he didn’t show it. Ronan tried not to. Letting out a deceptively dismissive sigh, Ronan glanced sideways at Adam.

**“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Parrish?”**

The plane jerked. Adam’s face twisted in something like pain. Ronan’s fingers hovered at Adam’s wrist, delicately twining the wire to which his headphones were attached, steady. Adam heaved a deep breath that Ronan could feel brush his chin. Ronan averted his gaze.

After a second or two of intensive breathing, Adam finally calmed enough to speak.

**“What are you watching and why the _hell_ is it so loud?”**

Ronan rolled his eyes. Another car exploded on screen, the sound coming in a rush from the headphones . Adam twitched. Ronan chewed on the inside of his cheek as amusement crept across his features.

 **"Top Gear, and because I want to hear it. Better question: why are you trying to cuddle with me?"**  
"You’re going to go deaf." Adam deadpanned. ****  
"Who cares." Ronan responding, turning his molten gaze to the boy beside him. Adam drew back to look Ronan in the face. ****  
"It’s annoying."  
"Says you."  
"Yeah, says me."  
"You never explained why you’re trying to cuddle with me." Ronan smirked, resting his knuckles—still ensnared by the headphone wires—atop Adam’s wrist. Ronan’s heart hummed at the contact.  
 **"Why do you insist on pissing me off?"**  Adam snapped, hands flying up from their spots on the armrests, knocking away Ronan’s touch and fluttering about with his exasperation.  **"Just turn down your damn show!"**

At the exact moment Ronan decided on a reply, the plane pitched sideways, quaking so violently that, all down the aisle, luggage was pitched from the overhead compartments. Children squealed and adults murmured. A voice came over the loud speaker, stating the obvious:  _We will be experiencing some turbulence._ The announcement was so tedious that Ronan almost wanted to laugh.

It was then that Ronan became aware of an acute pressure being applied to his closed fist. Looking down, Ronan saw that Adam’s hand had found it’s way to his, clinging desperately. A scowl overrun with flush streaked across Ronan’s features but as he raised his eyes to Adam, he softened immediately. The boy beside him was only a reflection of Adam—white as ghost, eyes closed, teeth grit against a frown, shudder. This was Adam completely consumed by fear—also, an Adam that Ronan feared for.

Worried about.

Another explosion sounded from Ronan’s headphones. Adam swallowed a scream.

**"God would you just shut that off, Ronan, christ—"**

Ronan moved his free hand and carelessly smashed at the touchscreen, urging unattended fingers to select anything other than Top Gear—it didn’t really matter what.

 **"Yeah, man, Jesus, sorry, OK, whatever, sure, christ,"**  Ronan mumbled, poking at the screen. At some point, the sound of screeching tires, laughing Englishmen, and detonations turned in to something that sounded like a musical. Ronan wasn’t minding the TV at all—instead, his eyes darted covertly to the hand to which his was still attached. The headphone wires around the leather straps.

Wrangling his nerves, Adam finally took a deep breath. Attending to the world around him, he could now hear a distinctly familiar song coming in canned through the headphones. Leaning in to Ronan, Adam peered at the screen, his head pressing in to Ronan’s shoulder. Adam’s hair tickled Ronan’s neck. Ronan let out a sigh.

 **"What movie is this?"**  Adam asked.  
 **"I don’t fucking know."** Ronan replied.  
 **"I think it’s** _ **Grease**_ **,”** **  
 **"Swell."**  
 **"Have you seen it?"****  
  
Ronan resisted the urge to shrug him off and sock him in the arm. Instead, he allowed himself a wry smile.

 **"You know me: Ronan Lynch, musical aficionado."**  
  
Adam Parrish moved a little closer to Ronan Lynch. Ronan Lynch let him.

 **"It’s not a bad movie."** Adam said. His hand was still clutching Ronan’s clos

ed fist. Ronan tried to keep that hand  _very_  still.

 **"Whatever,"**  Ronan answered.

After a few minutes passed and Adam made no attempts to move, Ronan asked,  **"Do you want a headphone?"**

Adam smiled an imperceptibly small smile.  **"Nah,"** He answered, careful not to move anything more than his jaw.  **"I’m OK."**

There were a lot of things ways that Ronan Lynch could have responded to Adam Parrish. He could have shrugged the boy off, or made a crude joke. He could’ve started talking of secrets, of dreams, of wishes and wants. He probably could have said anything and it would have sounded better than the lyrics currently playing in his ear— _They think our love is just a growin’ pain. Why don’t they understand? It’s just a cryin’ shame. Their lips are lyin’, only real is real. We stop the fight right now, we got to be what we feel - grease is the word._  But the plane rumbled again, and Adam’s heart fluttered, his breath caught, and Ronan knew there was nothing else to say.

Ronan leaned his head back against his seat, careful not to disturb the boy at his shoulder, and offered nothing more than a cool reply, flexing his closed fist beneath Adam’s palm. 

**"Alright, Parrish, it’s alright."**

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my [tumblr](http://babellamy.tumblr.com/post/102894585178/prompt-they-end-up-sitting-next-to-each-other-on)
> 
> kudos are love but comments are life ;)


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